


healing

by silent_seungmin



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Blood, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love, M/M, Mentioned Stray Kids Ensemble, Minor Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin, Minor Lee Felix/Seo Changbin, OT8, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27145714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silent_seungmin/pseuds/silent_seungmin
Summary: Han Jisung had everything one could want in the world. He had family, he had friends, he had a solid education and a scholarship to one of the best universities in America. He had freedom, but he also had parental guidance; he had money, he had a bright future, he had youth, he had nearly everything in the world, he should be content, he should be happy, but why isn’t he?In fact, Jisung can’t remember the last time he didn’t want to die, let alone being happy.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	healing

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This is my first ao3 fic! Warning: Please read the tags. There will be many disturbing and triggering topics in this story, so the tags are there for you to read. I may add some later, the story is still changing in my mind, so watch out!
> 
> Updates will happen as fast as possible. Which . . . is probably really slow :) sorry 
> 
> Other idols may appear in the story, but only as minor characters. There will also be just ocs for people I really don't want to replace with idols because of the personality. 
> 
> Lastly, please remember this is pure fiction. The members are no where related to this story.
> 
> Enjoy!

Han Jisung wondered if nine-legged spiders existed. 

He had spent the past few days wondering if the spider sitting up in the corner was alive, and today, it finally moved, much to his amazement. Upon closer inspection, the spider looked like it was missing a leg, so Jisung had spent the full day looking for an extra spider leg on the floor. He didn’t find any spider legs, but he did wonder how a spider would look with nine legs.

He shifted uncomfortably on his “bed,” more of two blankets and pillow, as he watched the spider weave its web, slowly descending from the ceiling to grab wisps of net to attach. It was a painful yet entertaining process for the young boy, and sometimes, when he got really bored of maths, he had drawn a finger up to the corner and flicked it, instantly destroying the spider’s hard work with a small chuckle. 

His stomach growled, the only sound penetrating the silent closet. He sighed unhappily as the spider securely wove its last thread and settled down in a curled ball, awaiting any unfortunate flies. The younger boy also curled himself up, wrapping his arms around his legs to shake the uncontrollable feeling of hunger gnawing at his insides. 

When was the last time he had eaten? Maybe yesterday, maybe the morning two days ago; Jisung couldn’t really remember, his memory hazy and clouded with the overwhelming thoughts of food. Did his parents even remember to feed him? He was pretty sure he wasn’t served food by them the last time he ate. 

This was probably punishment for eating grass a week ago. But then, he would eat anything in his starved state, and plants were supposed to be good for you, right?

He heard the commotion downstairs stop, the clinking of utensils against plates fall silent, and then suddenly, buzzing and laughter from the television start. And then a few moments later, his closet door was slowly being rolled open, revealing his younger brother, who opened his hand with half a bread roll. A silent “thank you” was passed between Jisung’s and his brother’s eyes, then quietly as he had come, the door rolled back into its place, once again locking Jisung in his own world with the spider and small, measly lamp standing among askew math papers.

He didn’t devour the bread. Instead, he slowly picked at it, pulling the piece of baked dough apart, watching the bread crumble and the threads snap. 

A piercing scream cut through the night, startling Jisung as he quickly crammed the rest of the bread into his mouth and attempted to right his math papers. He swallowed hastily, flinching when his closet door rolled open, but this time with a furious hand, and he mentally cringed as it banged into the doorframe. 

There, standing there, tall, proud, livid, was his father, holding Jisung’s younger brother by the back of his T-shirt, as the youngest tried to whimper and scramble free. Jisung didn’t dare look up; he already knew how his father’s face would look like: eyes protruding menacingly, mouth pressed in either a snarl or a thin line, forehead veins bulging along the wrinkles, hair awry and very gray, and most importantly, his entire face would be red, maybe even nearing purple, which was a sight that Jisung didn’t want to see. He knew, if he looked up, there would be more snarls and snaps, and it would be taken as an assert of dominance, which Jisund had no intention of doing, as it would only lead to worse consequences.

“You!” he shouted, jabbing a finger into the youngest’s chest, eliciting a quiet whimper. “You! You were helping this fool! You knew he was in trouble, you knew that his punishment was not having food for a week, and yet you decided to disobey my orders of leaving him alone and even gave him food! We aren’t stupid, you aren’t slick, we watched you run skippity up the stairs and flounce into the room, and after all we’ve done for you, you dare turn your back on us and help this pathetic, rotting rat. I thought you were better than this, Jibeom!”

Three? four? or five slaps followed, maybe even a few punches, and a loud burst of cry from the younger, and Jisung clenched his eyes shut, hating the way his brother wailed desperately.

“Stop!” Jisung screamed back. “It’s my fault! I asked him for food!”

“You? You asked him for food?” Jisung watched his father’s head slowly turn back forward to face him, his eyes glittering with menace and evil, and his mouth slowly curling up to a large, sick, sweet smile, a chuckle escaping his lips. “You? Well then, apparently these punishments aren’t working on you. You still dare to defy us. Well, how about this? I’ll punish you once again, but this time, let’s add your brother into the mix.”

And to Jisung’s horror, he threw Jibeom to the side, who hit the wall weakly and tried to scramble away. The youngest was unsuccessful; he was immediately pulled back by their mother, who had appeared just in time to drag Jibeom out of the room and down the stairs to god knows where. 

“Jibeom! Jibeom!” Jisung screamed as he tried to push his way out of the closet and out of the room, but to his dread, he was pulled back and watched as the door slammed shut. His father’s hands were around his neck and dragged him and his T-shirt back, and Jisung fought; he fought as much as he could, legs kicking his father’s shins, arms flailing out and about, whipping his head side to side to get free. But his father was strong, and Jisung was half-starved, and in this state, he only exhausted his body and made it unprepared for what was about to come.

His head was thrust into the mattress of the bed, the sole furniture of the room. His cries were muffled, and his legs were trapped between his father’s as his father’s arms held him down. 

He squeezed his eyes shut. He knew what was going to happen. The dread that sat at the bottom of his stomach made him feel like throwing up. He could barely breathe, and he wanted to scream, scream as loud as he could, but only silence came out.

A loud spank jolted him out of his tears, but he continued to cry. There was no avoiding the impending doom.

It always happens. It was always the worst punishment he would receive. But even if it’s the worst, he still had received it numerous times because his pain was his father’s joy and pleasure. He hated it; he hated the disgusting feeling along his skin afterwards; he hated how his insides felt like they were on fire; he hated how he always wanted to vomit; he hated how his body shook every time it was over; he hated how he’d always collapse into a pitiful mess of liquids and broken bones afterwards, gasping for air as his body stuttered from stimulation; he hated how inferior he felt, how submissive he had to be to even lessen the pain a little; he hated not being able to scream because he was an act of pleasure for somebody he hated, his captor; he hated that feeling when it was in his body, brushing his whole insides with the disgusting coating; and most of all, he hated that he even sometimes felt pleasure shooting through his body, and even though it wasn’t happy pleasure, he hated that feeling when his nerves were hit and his body wanted to sing but his conscience stamped down and screamed back, a tossing and turbulent ocean battle between what he wanted and what he hated.

He didn’t even know if his body was his anymore. It was just a body, and he inhabited it. And he had the choice to discard it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos greatly appreciated!


End file.
